


Accept (Some) Substitutes

by midnightstreet



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Developing Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27398572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightstreet/pseuds/midnightstreet
Summary: There's something familiar about Patrick's favorite toy...
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 48
Kudos: 226





	Accept (Some) Substitutes

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [RhetoricalQuestions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricalQuestions/pseuds/RhetoricalQuestions) for the beta!
> 
> Takes place not long after 4.02 Pregnancy Test (D&P's night at Stevie's)

David’s not quite sure what he’s looking at, beyond a very nicely-shaped dildo, and — and good for Patrick; that must feel wonderful up his ass, and Patrick deserves nice things up his ass.

But Patrick is looking at him with bashful expectation, and David knows he’s missing something. 

“That’s. That’s very nice. 100% silicone I hope?”

“Yes David, I did my research,” Patrick responds with his head held high. “Is there anything else you notice about it?”

“Umm,” David starts. He studies the just-above-average-sized blue (of _course_ it’s blue) cock with its prominent mushroom head, but can find nothing unique about it. But then Patrick is touching him through his jeans, a slow grind with the meat of his palm against denim and, okay, they’re moving on, that's fine. David can feel himself fattening up nicely, and then.

Wait, why did the fun stop?

Oh. Patrick is taking David’s hand and guiding it to the button of David’s own jeans. He gets with the program, throwing the dildo behind him — Patrick’s question forgotten — onto the bed, yanking everything down far enough to pull himself out, already half-hard. Yes, progress. 

But Patrick’s hands are gone as abruptly as they’d arrived, and their shoulders brush as Patrick walks past him, leaving David’s face to heat up as he finds himself standing awkwardly in the middle of this floral nightmare of a room, dick flapping in the proverbial breeze. 

Before his uncertainty can get the better of his erection, Patrick is back. But he’s holding...where does the dildo feature in whatever Patrick has planned? David’s thoroughly confused mind can come up with no scenario which is not incorrect at this juncture...or at least nothing which doesn’t require a more advanced discussion than they’ve had.

“Okay, can you please tell me what’s going on? Because I am feeling uniquely vulnerable right now and also I think there might be a draft in here,” David manages to get out in one breath, searching around for the source of the supposed now-literal breeze. 

“So this,” Patrick starts, speaking low like he’s telling David a secret (which, come to think of it, he actually is), “is my favorite dildo. I bought it...maybe a week after we met?” Patrick looks like something is only just occurring to him, and... _oh, wow_. He swallows a few times in rapid succession. “It wasn’t the first, but it was the first that looked vaguely like a real dick, and it really. Uh. Worked? For me? There’s even a suction cup to go with it,” Patrick flips the thing and gestures to the hole in the base, “for, uh...” 

Patrick is showing David a dildo — holding a dildo at _waist level_ and _blushing_ and David is certain this is how he will die, spontaneously combusting from the tender feelings he’s having about Patrick embracing and exploring his sexuality – and sharing it with David – bubbling up inside him and leaving a tidy pile of ash on the burgundy shag carpet. David’s hard-on, which had started to go away when it sensed insecurity, is staging a robust comeback.

“Well, you know.”

“Mmm, I do know,” David responds with a little shimmy of his shoulders.

“I’ve had some fun with this guy. After I got the hang of him, at least; I’ll spare you the details of what happened the first time I tried to make good use of the shower tile,” Patrick jokes as he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, “but...well let’s just say that Ray can’t tell the difference between a shampoo bottle falling, and an accident that requires emergency assistance, and I am grateful every day of my life that at least one door in this house has a lock on it.”

The redness of Patrick’s cheeks belies the confident, flirty smirk he gives David.

“The reason I wanted you to see this one specifically is, well…” 

Patrick looks down at the dildo.

David looks where Patrick is looking.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, you can see it now, right?”

“Can I see that your favorite thing to fuck yourself with looks like it may as well have been made from a cast of my dick? Yes. Yes I can.”

Patrick blushes even more furiously.

“Is there a reason you’re showing this to me?”

“Honestly? Since I...saw...uh, _you_ , I haven’t been able to get the similarity out of my head.” Oh god, Patrick’s face is _on fire_. “I just. I thought you’d find it...interesting?”

There’s a lot David is pretty sure Patrick’s not saying — might not even understand about himself at this point — but David decides to show some mercy before the poor guy bursts into flames. He treasures the trust Patrick has placed in him, having shared with David his affection, his body, and, now, something that is, in a way, even more private. There’s a unique vulnerability here, and David wants to grab it; lock it up and carry it with him always.

“Would you...do you think you could show me? I would love to see how you use it. If you’re comfortable with that!” He adds hurriedly. “If not, I totally understand.”

Instead of answering, Patrick swoops in and kisses him. It’s a crushing, brutal kiss that has David digging his heels into the carpet to keep from falling over, but he can feel Patrick’s wide grin the whole time. He clings to Patrick's shoulders – those lovely, lovely shoulders his hands seem to be drawn to like a magnet – and makes a sad attempt to give as good as he’s getting.

Patrick pulls away, lips swollen and a beautiful shade of pink, a trail of wetness still connecting them to David’s. He stares up at David like he hung the moon, and fuck, there’s so much… _affection_...there, David swears his heart physically _aches_ for this man. Patrick grasps David’s hand, bringing it up to press his mouth softly – so, _so_ softly – to David’s knuckles as they look into each other’s eyes. Finally it’s David who’s forced to look away.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable,” Patrick prompts with a little nudge to David’s chest, gesturing with his chin toward the head of the bed. Any concerns he may have had as to the provenance of the bedding are forgotten as David clambers up toward the headboard.

In the three _highly_ unattractive seconds that journey takes – David’s dick is still out, his balls rubbing uncomfortably, dangerously close to his zipper – Patrick has made great progress in undressing himself: his shirt is gone, pants unbuttoned and unzipped so David can see Patrick’s (very impressive) cock straining against his underwear. David is about to comment that keeping socks on during any sexy activities is unacceptable, when Patrick leans down and yanks them off before popping back up, shoving his pants and underwear off in one go. David still has all of his own clothes on, _technically_ speaking, but after spending what felt like hours standing there with his dick out, this seems fair.

Patrick is standing in front of him, stark naked, his lovely flush extending halfway to his navel. But he has his head held high again; David hopes his own body language is conveying just how into this he is, how much he loves looking at Patrick and how eager he is to see what Patrick does when he’s alone.

“I just, uh. Give me a second.” Patrick turns, giving David a lovely look at that _spectacular_ ass. God, he wants to bite it, spank it, dig his nails into the jiggle of it, fucking _worship_ it like it deserves. He wants Patrick to wear little lacy panties, to walk around in those shorts the sportsball people wore in the 70s. Wants to bend him over every available surface and just…

No, too soon.

While David was fantasizing, Patrick apparently dug out his lube – _good_ lube; David is impressed – from somewhere, and he’s...Jesus _Christ_ , he’s standing at the end of the bed, two fingers up his own ass. From the way he’s getting into it, not a trace of discomfort to be found on his face, Patrick does this pretty regularly. David’s cock is actively leaking against his stomach; his jeans are coming off _now_.

Patrick watches him, looking very pleased with how things are progressing. He’s jacking himself now, just a little to take the edge off, and David thinks he could watch this forever. They don’t even need to touch, really; he just needs to see Patrick making himself feel good, bringing his exhibitionist side out to play, turning himself into David’s personal porn.

Patrick’s fingers slide out with a wet _pop_ , and he wipes them on his bare thigh. He takes a step toward the bed, eyes flicking down to David’s naked bottom half. “Are you ready?” he asks, and _David_ is the one who’s going to burst into flames. The lube makes another appearance, coating the dildo generously, and then...

_Fuck._

Oh, but David was wrong: _this_ is how he’ll meet his end, watching this unassuming, buttoned-up business major with a leg up on the bed, pounding into himself with a sex toy that may as well have been modeled on David’s own cock. From his position against the pillows, David can’t see Patrick’s hole taking the dildo, but he _can_ see the look on Patrick’s flushed face, the straining muscles and tendons in Patrick’s arm, the curling of Patrick’s toes in the bedspread, the way his cock and balls fill ( _and then some_ ) Patrick’s left hand as he lifts them up to give David as much of a show as possible. David has gone past turned on and into _imminent coronary_.

David’s dick is leaking like crazy now, hearing Patrick moan and watching him sweat as he really goes for it. He takes a moment to mourn his sweater: as he doesn’t trust any cleaner local to the backwater hell he currently calls home to successfully remove a protein stain from cashmere, this one will be a total loss. It’s well worth the sacrifice, he knows, for the show he’s getting, this beautiful man seizing his own pleasure and giving David the honor of witnessing it.

Smartly sweaterless, on the other hand, Patrick is leaking onto his own fingertips. He’s also moved on from the high-pitched whimpers of fresh sensation, into the deep grunts of a determined race toward orgasm. David doesn’t know bedroom! (or car! or stockroom!)Patrick well enough yet to gauge how close he is, but he risks taking himself in hand, betting this will all be over for Patrick sooner rather than later and wanting them to finish together.

“Oh fuck, David, yeah, I want to see. I want to…please touch yourself, yeah, I need... _fuck!_ ” Patrick comes spectacularly, those deliciously thick thighs straining as his desperate scramble for release drives him onto his tip-toes. Sweat drips down Patrick’s temples; David wants to lick it off.

“Talk to me Patrick. Please, _please_ talk to me!”

“Oh. Umm. Right. Let me just…” Patrick pulls the dildo out of himself with a squelchy wet sound, dropping it on the floor — _eww, carpet_ — and climbing up the bed, taking David’s left hand while David jacks himself furiously with the right, those beautiful seconds of Patrick losing control playing behind his eyelids. “It felt so good, feeling so full of you. Full of your beautiful cock. God, I can’t wait for the real thing. Would you fuck me good, David? Would you fill me up?”

And fuck, that’s all it takes to tip David over the edge, bucking his hips up off the bed, squeezing Patrick’s hand hard enough to hurt as he shoots all over his stomach, chest (fuck, his poor sweater), and even his chin.

Then Patrick leans over, licking David’s release from his neck. Holy _fuck_. David’s dick gives up one more pathetic blurt of come.

“Did you...like that?” Patrick asks, after they’ve both caught their respective breaths. “Was that too much? I just...you make me…”

David leans up to take Patrick’s mouth, silencing his doubts. “That was fucking incredible. Thank you for letting me see that. Any time you want to show me something like that, let me tell you now that I enthusiastically consent.”

Patrick smiles, dipping back down to press one more little kiss to David’s temple.

“But tomorrow,” David tips Patrick’s chin to meet his eyes, “you and I are going internet shopping: if you have one that looks like me, it’s only fair that I have one that looks like you.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait til we knew the outcome of the American presidential election to post this, but...fuck it, I need the kudos/comments boost.
> 
> (I am an American freaking the fuck out. I never normally say this, but...if you enjoyed this, please give me some love.)


End file.
